Act I, Chapter 3

...

Dear H.

I hope this letter finds you well—or as well as you ever are. I know it's been a bit tough lately.

On my end, things are moving along, though not without their usual hurdles. I've been assigned a task that will require me to travel to the Americas for a while. Don't ask me how long it will take, because I genuinely don't know. By the time you receive this letter, I will already have been here for a couple of days.

Let's just assume it won't be a quick trip, though I'll make sure to see you off at the train station before you go off to school. After that, though, you're on your own, so try not to do anything reckless while I'm away.

Speaking of which, how is everything on your end? Any progress with our project? No pressure, of course, but I'd sleep better knowing you're actually making headway.

Now, to the reason for this letter: enclosed with it, you'll find a little something I thought might be useful. It's a two-way mirror—based on the one you told me about, though I've taken the liberty of making a few improvements. This version is keyed exclusively to the two of us. It's completely secure, untraceable, and practically indestructible (not that I want you to test that).

This mirror should make it easier for us to stay in contact without relying on owls or, heaven forbid, your highly conspicuous Patronus. I'll always keep it on me, and you should do the same. There are some rather nifty charms that make it portable, resizable, undetectable etc. so no excuses.

Take care of yourself, Haz and stay sharp.

Yours,

D.

.

Harry's brows furrowed at the thought that Draco would be so out of reach, but he smiled fondly as his eyes flitted over the parchment, a soft snort escaping him at some of Draco's more pointed remarks, though.

'Typical Draco', he thought. 'That git was as practical and snarky as ever'.

The mirror was a nice touch too, guess he really did think of everything.

Setting the letter aside, Harry turned his attention to the parcel. Carefully, he undid the paper wrapped around it, revealing an oval hand mirror. Its borders were relatively thin, carved with runes that shimmered faintly under the light. The simple yet elegant pattern etched into the dark cherry-red wood gave the piece an understated beauty. Harry traced his fingers lightly over the carvings, noting the precision of the work.

"Draco?" Harry murmured, holding the mirror up in front of him.

Cassian's face flickered into view, his familiar features bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. He was seated at a desk, pen in hand, scribbling intently in his notebook. From the angle, Harry guessed the mirror was propped somewhere nearby.

Without looking up or pausing his writing, Draco spoke, his tone dry as ever. "I see you got my letter. Did you burn it?"

Harry arched a brow. "Oh, hello, Harry. Good to see you. You too, Draco. Lovely to catch up."

"Yes, yes, hello and all that," Draco replied impatiently, finally glancing at the mirror and propping his head on one hand. "But youdidburn it, right? We can't have anyone stumbling upon our correspondence and putting two and two together."

Harry rolled his eyes and levitated the letter so it was in plain view, he lifted a finger, and the letter burst into flames, the fire consuming it instantly. The ashes drifted to the floor in a delicate spiral, leaving no trace of the parchment behind. He made a dramatic show of brushing his hands together, as if cleaning off the remnants, before glancing back at the mirror with a smirk.

"Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Draco replied dryly, though his eyes flicked briefly to the pile of ash with amusement.

Harry hummed, "So what's this I hear about America?"

Draco sighed, leaning back slightly. "The goal is to weed out a spy I suspect of leaking information. As much as I hate to aid that maniac, I must do what I have to do to rise in ranks and get closer to him."

Harry smirked, teasing. "For the Greater Good, yeah?"

Shooting him a long-suffering look, Draco deadpanned, "Shut up, Haz."

Harry giggled softly, but his laughter faded as he grew serious. "I mean, I get it. It's hard to sit here knowing we could do something to stop the suffering of innocents. But choosing to step aside, to watch and wait while people suffer… it's unbearable."

"Yeah… and here I am, helping the ones causing the suffering" Draco murmured, his gaze distant for a moment.

The silence stretched, heavy between them, before Draco shook his head and broke it. "Anyway. Any progress on your end, though?"

Harry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "No. I've got nothing. It's driving me mad."

"Take a break, start reading up for school," Draco said, his voice pointed as always.

Harry groaned louder, leaning back in his chair dramatically. "I can't believe I'm going back to school. I've been out for three years, Draco. Three."

"Precisely why you need to go over the seventh-year course material," Draco shot back with an unimpressed look. "We can't have you losing time because some professors decide you need remedial lessons. Which they will, I might add, if you do poorly. It's your NEWT year, after all."

Harry sat up, glaring at the mirror. "Wait, why did we decide I'd be a kid in school while you got to be a grown-up, anyway? Feels unfair."

Draco arched a brow, his lips twitching as though he were fighting off a smirk. "We didn't decide the personas we were given, dimwit. Magic did. Plus, it's fortuitous, if you think about it. What better way to get close to Dumbledore than as his student? You get the benefit of the doubt, and any interest you show in him or his work can be passed off as mere curiosity."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Draco held up a hand and continued, his tone growing drier. "Also, let's not forget, I'm obviously the more mature one between us. Magic would reflect that. You, on the other hand…" He trailed off meaningfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Oi!" Harry spluttered, his cheeks reddening. "I'll have you know I'm plenty mature!"

Draco snorted. "Yes, of course you are. That's exactly why you just whined about going back to school like a six-year-old denied pudding."

Harry groaned again, slumping back in his chair. "I hate you, you know that?"

"No, you don't. If I recall, it's quite the contrary," Draco replied smugly, leaning back in his own chair with an insufferable air of superiority. "Now, stop sulking and crack open a book. Speaking of books, have you packed all your things for school yet?"

"No," Harry said slowly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "I haven't got the stuff on the supply list yet?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Harry, it's August 29th."

"Yes?" Harry said.

"The school term begins September 1st," Draco replied, his tone edging toward exasperation.

Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "Is this you stating the obvious? You always get snarky when I do, yet here you are."

Draco groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "Harry, youaffable buffoon, school starts in two days, and you haven't gotten your supplies."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking. Then, after a beat, "Wait, that's not—hold on, I'll just—oh."

Draco stared at him flatly through the mirror. "Yes,oh. Honestly, Potter, how do you function? Do you even know where the list they sent you with your letter is?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Er... yeah, somewhere? I think I left it on the desk in my room. Or maybe it's in one of my robes? Could be in the library, actually."

Draco's head thudded softly against his desk in the mirror. "Merlin help me, I've aligned myself with an idiot. Awell-meaningidiot, but an idiot nonetheless."

"Oi, I'mrighthere," Harry protested, crossing his arms.

"And yet somehow still useless," Draco deadpanned, lifting his head to fix Harry with an unimpressed glare. "Go find your list, and get your supplies"

Harry rolled his eyes but cracked a grin. "Fine, fine, I'll go tomorrow. Happy?"

"Positively spiffing," Draco drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now get off this mirror before I lose my remaining faith in humanity."

Harry snorted. "See you at the station, Draco."

"Goodbye, Harry," Draco said, his tone deceptively polite. The mirror went blank with a faint shimmer, leaving Harry chuckling to himself.

He'd go tomorrow.

...

Breakfast at Grimmauld Place wasn't a loud, lively affair like the Weasley table had been. No one laughed over toast or jostled for the last sausage. Instead, the conversation was quiet, deliberate, yet filled with warmth and a quiet familiarity Harry struggled to reconcile with the stories about them he'd heard from Sirius.

He waited for the right moment before clearing his throat lightly, pulling Rigel to the forefront.

"Cousin Arcturus," Rigel began, his tone polite but steady, "Cassian brought my attention to my school supplies. I realized I've yet to procure them and was wondering if you might... accompany me to Diagon Alley today. I must apologize for the short notice."

Arcturus's sharp gray eyes flicked to him, assessing. Before he could respond, Lucretia—seated just a few places down—smiled, her expression warm but faintly curious.

"Well, I'm meeting some friends in London this morning," she offered brightly. "I'd be happy to accompany you, Rigel. We hardly talk as it is."

Rigel blinked, thrown for a moment by her easy offer. He forced himself to nod smoothly, keeping Rigel's polished persona intact. "That would be... much appreciated, Cousin Lucretia."

Arcturus gave an approving nod. "That should suffice. Alphard, Cygnus, you'll join them. It wouldn't do to have Rigel wandering about unguarded."

"Yes, Uncle," Alphard and Cygnus chorused, their tones obedient but laced with a trace of teenage reluctance.

"Splendid," Lucretia said with a bright smile, clearly pleased. "It'll be good to get out for a bit—and, Rigel, we'll finally get a chance to talk properly."

"Thank you"

...

"So, Rigel," she began as they passed Flourish and Blotts, her tone conversational. "You've been awfully quiet since you arrived. Alphard and I were starting to think you didn't like us."

Rigel blinked, startled by her directness. "That's not true," he said carefully, frowning slightly as he added, "It is... not easy to speak fluently in English. I prefer to listen."

Lucretia tilted her head, studying him for a moment before nodding. "I suppose that makes sense. But you should try more. We don't bite—well, except for Alphard, maybe."

"Hey!" Alphard shot her an offended look, which she ignored with a grin.

Rigel chuckled faintly, relaxing just a fraction, Lucretia and his cousins seemed genuine enough.

"You'll enjoy Hogwarts," she continued as they entered Flourish and Blotts. "Alphard and Cygnus will look out for you, I'm sure. Show you all the fun stuff to do"

"That would be nice of them," Harry said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Though I imagine it will be... difficult to have fun when I'll be spending most of my time studying to keep up."

"Don't let the professors hear you say that," Alphard quipped, plucking a textbook off a nearby shelf. "They'll saddle you with even more homework."

Harry giggled lightly, the sound escaping before he could stop it. Alphard raised an eyebrow in amusement, and smirked.

They made their way toward the Hogwarts section, moving steadily down the aisle until they reached the shelves designated for seventh-year students. Rigel scanned the spines, his cousins helping to pluck the necessary books from his list.

"Rigel," Cygnus began, his tone skeptical as he tugged him toward another shelf. "What's your English reading proficiency? Some of these books are... dense."

"I read better than I speak," Rigel replied with a small, reassuring smile. He hesitated before adding, "And write." He wasn't used to anyone asking after his needs like that. The thought left him oddly touched.

Cygnus nodded stiffly, his expression unreadable, before silently adding a few supplementary books to their basket.

They soon left Flourish and Blotts, weaving through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley to visit the various shops. At each stop, his cousins ensured Rigel selected only the finest quality robes, cauldrons, and quills—anything less, they insisted, would reflect poorly on the family. Rigel didn't argue; their standards were exacting, but it was oddly endearing how much they cared about their collective image.

By the time they finished, all four of them were thoroughly exhausted. Lucretia, who had missed her planned outing with her friends, waved off her own inconvenience with a cheerful smile.

"It's no matter," she said breezily, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Why don't we get ice cream? I think we've earned it after all this walking about."

The suggestion was met with murmurs of agreement, and soon enough, they were seated at a small table outside Fortescue's, enjoying the cool relief of their frozen treats. Rigel chose a simple chocolate flavor, savoring the creamy sweetness as he let himself relax.

As he glanced around, his thoughts drifted to a darker alley he had passed earlier on their way back from the Menagerie, its shadowy atmosphere so starkly different from the bright, bustling Diagon Alley. The memory nagged at him, sparking his curiosity.

He set his spoon down, tilting his head slightly as he addressed the group. "There is… another alley, no? I noticed it as we walked. It seemed… darker." He paused, searching for the right words. "What is it called?"

Lucretia's eyes turned to him. "You mean Knockturn Alley."

Rigel nodded. "Is that it? Knockturn. What is it?"

Cygnus leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp. "It's not a place for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Rigel repeated, his tone carefully neutral, though his curiosity deepened.

Alphard smirked, licking a stray bit of ice cream from his spoon. "It's where you'd go if you wanted something... unsavory. Dark artifacts, illegal potions, forbidden knowledge—you name it."

Rigel hummed thoughtfully. "Sounds interesting."

Alphard's smirk widened. "It is," he said simply, though his tone made it clear the reality was anything but simple.

Cygnus snorted, clearly unimpressed. "I wouldn't recommend you go there now, though. They know the kind of people that frequent that place. You're new blood—at best, they'll swindle you out of your money."

Rigel hummed again, noncommittally this time, his gaze drifting toward the direction of the alley.

Alphard's smirk turned mischievous, and he gave Rigel a meaningful look as the conversation shifted to lighter topics.

...

Later that evening, Harry was about to call for Draco through the mirror when a sharp knock sounded at the door. He placed the mirror down, smoothing his expression into something more neutral, and went to open it.

Alphard stood at the other side, a playful smirk already in place. Without waiting for an invitation, he strode in confidently and flopped down onto the chaise like he owned the room.

"So," he began, his tone light but laced with mischief. "You're interested in the Dark Arts?"

Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Alphard's nonchalance. He nodded mutely, unsure where this was going.

"Well," Alphard continued, lounging back comfortably, "I don't know how it is back home in France, but here in Britain there's a bit of a… stigma around it. Of course, it's all hogwash, but we have to be careful, you see? You can't just go traipsing into the most notorious alley in London all willy-nilly."

Harry moved to sit on the edge of the bed, forcing himself to emulate Rigel's composed demeanor and speech patterns "Ah," he said, his voice measured, "I was not aware."

Alphard waved a hand dismissively, his grin widening. "I know, and that's fine. Lucky for you, I know my way around these things." He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning conspiratorial.

"Our family library has some truly dark texts—bound to our family magics, of course—but even it's limited in scope. That's why I keep a few extra options on hand."

Harry tilted his head, feigning polite curiosity. "Extra options?"

Alphard nodded, looking pleased. "Catalogues," he said, drawing the word out with a flourish. "From dealers who specialize in, shall we say, unconventional reading material. You can owl in anything that catches your fancy." He paused, his grin sharpening. "Of course… you'd owe me one."

Harry made a face, a subtle quirk of his lips as if to say 'typical.' Alphard laughed, the sound warm but laced with his usual brand of mischief.

"Rest assured," Alphard said, leaning back comfortably, "it'll be a favor of equal value. Nothing unreasonable." He smirked, his eyes glinting. "But I'll call on it when I feel the need. So… do we have a deal?"

Harry gave him a measured look, his tone calm but firm. "Naturally. I'll need to see the catalogues first, of course."

Alphard's smirk widened, clearly pleased. "I knew I liked you," he said with a chuckle, reaching into his robes. He pulled out a stack of folded parchment and tapped it lightly with his wand. The bundle grew in size, pages multiplying and thickening before Alphard levitated it smoothly into his lap.

He flipped through the catalogues with practiced ease, the rustle of parchment filling the quiet space. "Here you go," Alphard said casually, handing them over with an air of confidence.

Harry took the stack, his fingers brushing the worn edges as he began thumbing through their contents. Alphard hadn't been exaggerating—there were more topics listed here than anything Harry had found in the Black family library. Each entry was precise and tantalizing, describing rare books, cursed artifacts, and forbidden scrolls.

His eyes scanned the titles intently, searching for anything that might help his cause. It didn't take long for one particular entry to catch his attention:Bonde: Primordial Beings, authored byHerodotus Swinburne.

It wasn't the title that drew Harry's focus, but the author's name.

Herodotus Swinburne.

Harry had come across the name before, in passing references buried within books he'd read on Death. While most of those texts were filled with half-truths and sensationalized theories about cheating or exploiting Death, the ones that mentioned Swinburne often hinted at something deeper—something more insightful.

Harry felt a flicker of excitement in his chest but kept his face carefully neutral, acutely aware of Alphard's gaze on him. He forced himself to keep flipping through the catalogues, pausing here and there to give the illusion of casual interest.

Finally, after what felt like a respectable amount of time, Harry nodded and looked up, his expression cool and composed. "Deal," he said simply.

Alphard's grin widened into something almost triumphant. "Lovely," he said, standing with a flourish.

As he reached Harry, he pulled out his wand again and tapped the catalogues. He muttered something under his breath, and the pages shimmered faintly. Addresses, pictures, and detailed descriptions appeared where once there had been only vague summaries.

"There," Alphard said with a wink. "Everything you need to know." He tipped an imaginary hat, his grin playful as he strolled toward the door. "Enjoy yourself, cousin. Oh, and remember—you owe me one."

Harry watched him go, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. Once the door closed, he turned his attention back to the catalogues, his excitement now fully surfacing. Swinburne.

This might just be the lead I need.

...

He did end up calling Draco later that night.

"I'm assuming you went out to get your supplies today?" Draco's voice came through the mirror, crisp and pointed as always.

"Uh-huh," Harry mumbled, lying on his back on the bed, one foot lazily kicking in the air as he held the mirror above him. Draco's image flickered into view, seated at his desk, his ever-present notebook open in front of him.

"Did you notice anything... off about Diagon?" Draco asked, not looking up from whatever he was scribbling.

Harry frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Off? No, not really. I mean, I wouldn't know, would I? We're about fifty years into the past—" he paused, doing a quick mental calculation. "Wait, is it fifty? Does that math check out?"

Draco finally glanced up, arching a brow. "Roughly. Give or take a year or two. But that's beside the point."

Harry shrugged, his tone casual. "Things are bound to be different. Why? Did you notice something?"

Draco leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of his quill against his chin. "It's probably nothing," he said slowly, though his furrowed brow suggested otherwise. "Just an anomaly in the data models I've been running. It's small, but persistent. It should've straightened itself out by now."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, his curiosity piqued. "And it hasn't?"

"No," Draco admitted, his voice edged with frustration. "It's not getting worse, which I suppose should be a relief. But it's not resolving either. Feels like it's only a matter of time before it starts to bleed into something bigger."

Harry's gaze softened as he studied Draco's face in the mirror. The man looked tired, the usual sharpness in his expression dulled by the weight of their mission.

"Hey," Harry said quietly, his tone unusually gentle. "Don't drive yourself mad over it. You said it's small, right? Maybe it'll just... sort itself out."

Draco snorted, though there was little humor in it. "When has anything in our lives, yours specifically, ever just sorted itself out, Potter?"

Harry couldn't help but grin at the use of his last name. "Fair point. But still, we've handled worse. You'll figure it out—Mr.Magister in Experimental Spellcraft."

Draco huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he set his quill down and closed his notebook with a decisive snap.

"You're exhausting, you know that?" But there was no real bite in his words, just a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I try," Harry said cheerfully, his grin widening.

Draco leaned back in his chair, and stretched, yawning. "Tell me about your day?"

Harry shifted the mirror slightly, staring at his ceiling for a moment before answering. "It was... nice. I like my cousins. Also, I think I may have made some headway on the whole research thing."

Draco raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Is that right?"

Harry's lips twitched into a small, thoughtful smile. "Yeah. But I'll tell you tomorrow. I think I've earned some sleep."

Draco hummed, his tone softer now. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Draco." Harry's voice was quiet as he set the mirror down.

The runes on the mirror faded, casting the room into darkness. Harry exhaled, turning his head to the side, where the catalogue Alphard had given him sat on the bedside table. He couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to get far more complicated. Hogwarts was only a day away, and with it, the start of something he couldn't quite name but knew he couldn't avoid.

A/N: And that wraps up Act I, 3 chapters and about 11K words. Next chapter is the start of Act II and the Hogwarts Arc, we also return to Tom's POV. So I'm excited! our boys finally meet again.

Anyway, see you next Friday and look out for edits!